


Keepsakes

by jumpingjaxx13



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Rated Explicit for Later, eventual angst, lyste is a cutie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpingjaxx13/pseuds/jumpingjaxx13
Summary: Lyste likes to keep little momentos from the important things in his life- his family, his relationships, his work. Konstantine gives him a lot of things to hold on to.





	1. Shrapnel

**Author's Note:**

> *screams* Someone get on this ship with me please

**Keepsake #1: Shrapnel**

* * *

 

Interranking imperial relationships, while implicatively scandalous, weren’t unheard of. Those whose ranks were nominally different alone were hardly blinked at, for the need for companionship and mutual affection was felt by any and all officers. Such was the case of Commandant Aresko and his partner, Taskmaster Grint. If anything, he admired their ability to maintain both their romantic relationship without undermining their work. On more than one occasion, however, he’d caught them in an unprofessionally affectionate state- holding hands, prolonged gazes, playful pinches and innuendos that they thought nobody would notice. Being a hopeless romantic himself, it was only natural that he noticed, and that he repeatedly vacillated between sympathetic adoration and that telltale prickle of jealousy. Why couldn’t  _ he _ have something like that- something so deep, yet so subtle that it was unbearably mutually sweet? Built off of mutual respect for one another and their commitments to the Empire? Even as a cadet, he’d never been offered the hand of someone else, and to be around dear friends who had  _ everything _ he’d ever wanted was so  _ conflicting… _

 

Interspecies relationships were frowned upon generally, especially in the imperial hierarchy. To combine both a dismissal of rank and difference of species was the ultimate taboo, for it contradicted the system which they stood for. Basic respect for the morals of the Empire were expected, if not mandated, of higher-ranking officers. One could only imagine the overwhelming surprise he felt when he turned a corner to find a certain Chiss admiral caught in a passionate liplock with the famous Iron Max. It appeared that the ground wasn’t the only thing Colonel Veers was pounding… Considering that Chiss weren’t too far evolved from humans (and that he had nothing to say as a simple supply master), he supposed that higher imperial command didn’t much mind this. Besides, Admiral Thrawn was prime for esteemed promotion due to his unparalleled tactical abilities and Colonel Veers often carried and showcased the full might of the imperial army. If a few sexual escapades together were what the Empire’s greatest minds needed, then so be it. As he awkwardly shuffled away with flaming cheeks, however, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar twinge- envy? Longing? Admiration? A need for what  _ they _ had without question? There was no telling. Pulling himself together, he retreated to his quarters and fell back on his cot, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“ _ Oi, Lyste! Get out here! You’ve got a job to do!” _

 

Barely a moment passed before a sharp voice tore him from his drowsy reverie, prompting him to jump onto his feet. “One moment, Commandant!” Beating off clingy sand particles from his pants, he stepped back out into the hall to face his superior. 

 

As always, the pair stood side by side, and Lyste couldn’t help but notice the contrast between them. Where Grint was rounded and packed with muscle, Aresko was full of sharp, unforgiving angles and agility. Lyste, not necessarily affluent in either of these characteristics, couldn’t help but feel rather average. 

 

Aresko regarded him with an unreadable expression, gaze casting down the angle of his nose. “Look sharp. We’re expecting an evaluation any moment now, and we can’t have you lazing around. Go down to cargo and start doing inventory.”

 

Lyste paused, blinking slightly in bewilderment. “B-But sir, the other stockers have already retired for the night, and there have to be hundreds of new shipments! Are you going to wake the rest of them?”

 

“Are the rest of them on probation?”

 

Lyste blanched, gaze flickering downward with strained submission.  _ Right… _ While it had hardly been his own doing, an incident involving a dozen or so missing weapons shipments and a handful of rebels went down under his supervision. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for the young supply master when he not only turned up short, but with the news of a rebel incursion as well. Somehow, he convinced himself that it was his fault entirely, seeing as he had been the one to try that final shot and  _ miss _ … 

 

“......Of course not, sir. I’ll get on that immediately.”

* * *

 

“Admiral Konstantine, we’ll be landing in a few moments. Minister Tua is waiting to escort you.” 

 

The admiral released a long sigh, correcting his posture reluctantly. Why this menial task was left to him, he hadn’t the slightest idea. Handling staffing wasn’t in his job description, but the man who pulled the strings had…  _ convinced _ him otherwise. With the death of some of his officers came an open position of command (however minor), demanding the integration of a new lieutenant into his fleet. In what was played off as a generous gesture (but was much more likely an excuse not to set foot on Lothal), the Grand Moff offered the opportunity to  _ hand select _ his new recruit so he could  _ best fit _ his fleet. How philanthropic…

 

So, here he was, touching down on the gritty earth of Lothal, sweat already beginning to bead up. Summers here, as he was told, tended to follow its temperate climate, but the Imperial uniform was unforgiving in even the most moderate of climates. Considering the fact that he spent the majority of his time in the vacuum of space, this reaction to unfamiliar heat was expected, if not tedious. 

 

“Remember, sir, that we aren’t to leave without a suitable candidate for promotion,” the trooper mused. Konstantine’s lips pressed into a tight grin, folding his arms behind his back and stepping toward the mouth of the ship.

 

“Then we’d best not let them know we’re looking.” With that, the release of an airlock signaled his official arrival, prompting him to face forward and step down the ramp.

 

He was greeted by a young woman with fair hair and vibrant eyes, her aura hovering somewhere between anxious and excited. While they had known each other for a healthy amount of time, this particular reunion held a different significance altogether. Whereas she believed she was being inspected, Konstantine knew better than to let slip his true intentions. Smiling, she regarded him respectfully.

 

“Admiral Konstantine. Welcome back to Lothal.”

 

“Minister Tua. It’s a pleasure, as always,” he replied, trying to ease her with a smile of his own. Perhaps he should forge a flawless inspection regardless of his true purpose, if only to reward her efforts for trying to make such a torn place appear presentable. Hells, if Lothal didn’t hold such value to the Empire, he doubted they would bother with it at all- simply let it rot in its own chaos. “I assume everything has been prepared sufficiently?”

 

“Of course,” she replied, stepping to the side to allow him passage. “Please, follow me.”

 

And follow her he did. Each step they took was laced with more boasting and the application of a sugary glaze to all of the visible problems-  _ ‘Oh, that’s under construction. It should be done soon’; ‘We’re a touch understaffed, but don’t worry! We have everything under control _ .’ As a man so accustomed to singing his own praises, hearing someone else rattle on and on about their own prideful achievements was rather obnoxious. Nevertheless, he simply nodded along, cold eyes scanning the area for an acceptable candidate. 

 

“Ah! Commandant Aresko! What… What are you doing here..?” Tua’s voice tore him from his absent search to see a rather narrow man standing before them, thin as a pencil and possibly just as useless. Had he not spoken, Konstantine would have labeled him a standing corpse. 

 

“No need to worry, Minister,” Aresko stated, raising his hand in a placating gesture. “I just finished delegating some important tasks and was on my way back to position.”

 

Tua’s relief was palpable, and Konstantine couldn’t help but be mildly amused by it. All of this trouble, and it never intended to grow fruit… 

  
“Commandant Aresko, is it?” Konstantine inquired, offering his hand in a greeting gesture.  “I’m Admiral Konstan-”

 

_ ~CRASH~ _

 

A thunderous boom echoed through the air, prompting each and every one of them to recoil with goosebumps crawling over their flesh. Konstantine, being much more accustomed to such sounds, corrected himself quickly and frowned. “What the  _ kriff _ was that?!”

 

“It sounds like it came from cargo,” mused Tua, lips pouted in bewilderment. “Maybe we should-”

 

“That won’t be necessary, Minister,” Aresko interjected, unable to mask the anxiety lacing his voice. “I’m sure it’s all perfectly fine. Just a little mess up. Happens every now and then, even to the best of us.”

 

Unconvinced, Konstantine wasted no time in pushing past the sentient twig and following the path of the sound to the source. Cargo greeted him with an empty chill. What had once been a notable tower of boxes had crumbled to the ground, their contents skewed around without rhyme nor reason. A simple accident, just like the Commandant had suggested, had there not been a third element.

 

In the center of the mess was one young man, cursing under his breath and scrambling to collect the evidence of his error. His hat had fallen off in the process, exposing messy dark hair and the beginnings of a bruise swelling at the corner of his eye. This would have been a simple accident, had this man not been the only living being present in cargo. 

 

“ _ Lyste! _ ” a voice from behind him hissed, making the young man jump to his feet, swaying slightly.  _ The positioning of that bruise… a concussion? _

 

“C-Commandant!”

 

“ _ What _ do you think you’re doing?” Konstantine didn’t have to look back at the commandant to know that his expression was burning- no, the way Lyste flinched away told that story well enough. 

 

“I-I was doing inventory, just like you said! But the stack was too tall, so I tried doing it from the bottom and-”

 

“And you were doing this  _ alone _ ? There have to be hundreds of shipments here.” Both men paused to look at Konstantine, whose expression he kept as neutral as possible. 

 

“Ah.. Yes, sir,” Lyste managed, averting his eyes in shameful submission. “I know it’s not recommended, but since I’m on probation-”

 

“Hold on.” Konstantine frowned, finally turning to face the man responsible for this event. Needless to say, there was no hint of calm on his face. “When you said that you had been delegating important tasks, you  _ actually _ meant that you had been forcing a probie into intensive labor under compromising, illegal conditions. That makes so much more sense.”

 

Aresko blanched. “W-Well, it’s not  _ exactly _ like that…”

 

Minister Tua cut him off with a wave of her hand- a display of power she didn’t often use. “Commandant Aresko, you will retrieve the rest of the inventory team and  _ join _ them in completing this task. Supplymaster Lyste, we’ll be taking you to medical to get your head examined.”

 

Knowing better than to protest, Aresko simply nodded his assent and rushed off to rouse the rest of the workers while Tua stepped over to the swaying supplymaster. “Here, now…. There,” she stated, swinging his arm around her shoulders.

 

“My apologies, Admiral Konstantine.  I… I really had no idea this was happening. I will do all in my power to prevent further abuses like this in the future- this I swear!”

 

Konstantine’s gaze drifted from Tua to Lyste, noticing how his cheeks flushed red and his head remained bowed. “I’m sure you will,” he mused. “As for myself, I’ve seen all I need to. Congratulations, Minister, you’ve passed evaluation.”

 

The smile which highlighted her face made the lie worth it. Perhaps he  _ would _ file an evaluation, if only to offer an incentive for her troubles. “And, Supplymaster Lyste, is it?”

 

The young man looked up, vibrant blue finally meeting Konstantine’s own cold ones, inducing a warm trickle down his spine. Funny, wasn’t it, how such similar colors could hold such different atmospheres? Managing a slight smile, he regarded him respectfully. “Do get better quickly. I can’t disembark without my new lieutenant.”

 

He felt Lyste’s shocked awe more than he saw it, for it manifested itself as a swell of pride in his chest when his jaw dropped and those eyes grew wide. He could hear the stuttering questions, but pushed them aside. Striding over to the (equally surprised) minister, he slipped an insignia from his pocket and handed it to her. 

 

“Give this to him once you’re sure he’s ready. I’ll be waiting on my ship. Until then, Lieutenant Lyste.” With that, he turned on his heel and ventured back to the ship. Questions would be asked, of course- questions he wasn’t sure he had appropriate answers to- but he knew it would be worth it to experience that gorgeous blue, innocent gaze time and time again. 

 

And when Lyste joined the crew on his shuttle, Konstantine pretended not to notice the piece of wooden shrapnel he tucked into his pocket, undoubtedly from the box which sealed his fate. 

 

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Lyste,” he mused, offering his hand, which was gladly taken. The boy had a firm grip, though whether it branched from strength or excitement was another question entirely. 

 

“Thank you very much, sir!” he exclaimed, the crinkles by his eyes accenting his elation. How long had he been waiting for this moment? He feared he’d lost count. While he was usually a more nervous person, he couldn’t help but take this in stride and look his superior directly in the eyes- they were a cool sort of blue that could easily calm one’s nerves. 

 

When he retreated to his new quarters, the newly christened lieutenant painted the shrapnel blue. 


	2. Napkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyste is concerned about the Empire's new policies. Konstantine just wants to spend some time with his newest recruit.

**Keepsake #2: Napkin**

* * *

 

When Admiral Konstantine called him into his office, Lyste could feel the bile burning in his throat. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse, could it? What would he be facing here- a probation; a demotion? Hells, it was equally likely that he’d be facing an execution for his own ineptitude. At that thought, he choked on his breaths, blinking back another onslaught of tears. 

 

He’d returned to the surface of Lothal mere days ago as an escort to the Alderaanian princess, only to find that, despite his greatest efforts to prevent it, the alderaanian curse continued to plague them. All of those defenses, and the blasted rebels  _ still _ managed to break the rules and make off with her ships and  _ his shuttle _ …. He would never hear the end of it. 

 

If that wasn’t enough to make him ill at this summons, what he discovered only hours beforehand didn’t make things any better. While waiting for another shuttle to whisk him back, he’d taken it upon himself to revisit a handful of old (well, recently departed) friends only to discover the rapidly aging face of the young minister and two men who were  _ very _ unfamiliar. 

 

Minister Tua pulled him aside, and Lyste could taste her anguish more than he saw it. His blood turned to sludge, lead encompassing the mass of his heart and pulling it down to his feet. Words escaped him entirely, mouth growing dry as Tua spoke in a rapid hush.

 

“ _ Oh, Lieutenant, it was awful! They came in- Governor Tarkin and the Grand Inquisitor, of course. I thought it was just a routine check in, o-or maybe an inspection or some backup, but I never expected…! They had Agent Kallus and I just  _ **_stand there_ ** _ and watch as they questioned Commandant Aresko and Taskmaster Grint. They’d done nothing to deserve… They gave good answers and reported honestly and they’d done everything required of them, but… I mean, I’ll admit that they weren’t exactly the most  _ **_adept_ ** _ of individuals, but there was no reason to relieve them of their heads! The Grand Inquisitor went up behind them, and.. And  _ **_*zhoom*_ ** _! I’ve never seen anything so awful in my life..!” _

 

A menacing chill ran up Lyste’s spine, goosebumps crawling over his body and claiming him entirely. Cumberlayne Aresko and Myles Grint, two of the people he’d admired most, had been executed unjustly for their ineptitude. No longer would there be any little acts of flirtation to fuel his own romanticism, or friendly faces to make him feel secure. Sure, they weren’t always the kindest to him, but they’d always been  _ there _ \- a necessary constant in his life. Or, so they had been… 

 

_ Ineptitude _ . Lyste’s stomach twisted, tempting him to hold his gut. If officers were now being slaughtered for their inability to perform on occasion, then the incident with the princess surely wasn’t a good sign for him. Inwardly, he trembled.  _ I’m too young to die _ …

 

“Lieutenant Lyste. Come in.” 

 

The blood in Lyste’s body ran cold, the frigid liquid chilling him to the bone and making his hair stand on end. Hells, he wouldn’t be at all surprised to find himself visibly trembling despite his best efforts to maintain a professional posture. After all, there still existed that chance that he  _ wasn’t _ in trouble and that he  _ would _ live to see another sunrise. Stepping through the door, he stood tall as he faced his fate- better to die with dignity than as a coward. 

 

Admiral Konstantine was alone. The artificial lights which shone down on him cast a dark shadow over the room, the size of it nearly all-consuming. Yet, such a silhouette possessed no partner, save for the newly introduced Lieutenant’s. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but glance up to the ceiling as if the Inquisitor clung to the ceiling, preparing to leap down at him. Seeing nothing, he quickly returned his attentions to his superior who was  _ actually _ in the room.

 

“Good afternoon, sir,” he stated, praying that he didn’t sound as nervous as his stomach insisted he was. “You wanted to see me?”

 

“Yes, I did.” Konstantine turned to face the younger man, and Lyste decided that those calming eyes he’d trusted were now his enemy, and he wanted nothing more than to shy away from his regard. Was it appropriate? No, but he could admonish himself for such juvenile thoughts at a later time. “Please, come in the rest of the way. There’s no need for you to keep the door open.”

 

Lyste stiffened, but followed suit amicably. Protesting legs hobbled forward, the sensors noticing the lack of presence and sliding shut behind him, condemning him to… to  _ whatever _ Konstantine had planned. He tried to moisten his lips, only to realize that the entirety of his mouth had gone drier than bone. 

 

“Good.” His entrance into the light allowed Konstantine to better see him, and a shudder of terror threatened to wrack his form when he pursed his lips in displeasure. “Rest, Lieutenant. You have no reason for being so tense. This isn’t a reprimand.”

 

_ Not a reprimand..? _ So, he  _ wasn’t _ in trouble? Suddenly, the proverbial noose around his neck felt much lighter than it had just moments ago. Releasing a breath he hadn’t been aware that he’d been holding, Lyste’s posture deflated into something almost humanly possible. “Than, if you don’t mind my asking, sir, what  _ is  _ this?”

 

“A check in, so to speak. You are, after all, the newest member of my crew, and I am nothing if not conscientious of my people’s needs.” Now, Lyste knew that much was a bit…  _ embellished _ , to say the least. Thinking back to all the times the esteemed admiral had sacrificed and marginalized the needs of his crew in order to further pursue his own ambitions, it took him his all to bite his tongue. “How have you been enjoying your time here? Has your treatment been satisfactory?”

 

Lyste blinked. How had the job been  _ treating _ him..? He'd never been asked that before- at least, not outside of a mandatory  _ ‘Yes, sir. I love it here.’ _ Yet, something about the tangible atmosphere in the room told him that a policy of honesty was expected, if not demanded. Suddenly, he grew cold again. Had Konstantine heard about his anxieties- his jitteriness and stresses? It had no relation to his position, but could be easily seen as such. 

 

“Yes, of course! I couldn't ask for anything better,” he confessed, his words holding more truth than he realized. The commandant hadn't exactly been a merciful superior, no matter how much Lyste admired him. Nevertheless, the thought of his former compatriot made his stomach twist, a dizzy nausea paling his face. 

 

Konstantine smiled. “Ah, good. Now, about-”

 

“I dare say I don't deserve it, sir.” Lyste’s heart pounded, the organ beating against the bars of his twisted prison. Did… Did he just  _ interrupt _ his  _ commanding admiral?! _ If he hadn't borne a death sentence before, it was certainly being etched out now. 

 

Konstantine, for his part, simply stared at him incredulously, tempting the younger officer to squirm under his icy gaze. Force only knows what he was thinking…. 

 

“N-Not that I'm ungrateful, of course!” he corrected immediately, putting his hands up in defense. “The opposite, actually! I’m  _ incredibly _ grateful to you for taking me in, but I can’t help feeling that I haven’t done anything to warrant it. And with the Empire’s new policy on… on…” Lyste hesitated, not wanting to mention his failures but having dug far too deep to escape it. “On  _ ineptitude _ , I can’t imagine why you haven’t, ah….” 

 

His voice trailed off, a sickening humility dawning on him, weighing him down and dragging his heart into the pit of his stomach. His gaze flickered downward, breaking eye contact to instead focus on the admiral’s insignia- an honor that, should he continue on the path he'd set himself on, would never come unto him. At the very least, he aimed to survive long enough to see it never happen… That comment made sense in some universe, didn't it?

 

“You heard about Governor Tarkin’s visit to Lothal, I presume?” Konstantine’s voice tore through his awkward reverie, prompting him to brave another glance at the admiral’s face. His lips were pressed in a thin line, nearly curved downward, and a glaze over his eyes that almost appeared  _ concerned _ . Not trusting himself to speak, Lyste nodded. 

 

With a sigh, Konstantine shook his head. “There is no new policy of executing the incapable, Lieutenant. What happened with the Commandant and Taskmaster was little more than a statement. High Command is dissatisfied with the autonomy Lothal has received since the focal shift, and they found the leadership conditions unacceptable. While it is unfortunate that two men had to die to get the point across of Lothal’s submission, rest assured that nothing more of the matter will be pursued. Even if it were, you have no reason to concern yourself, for you are far from inept in any sense of the term.”

 

Lyste blinked.  _ Far from inept..?! Even after that awful shitstorm with the princess? _ All things considered, it didn’t make any sense, especially not coming from Admiral Konstantine. Ever since their first meeting, all he’d ever seen was his failure- from a concussed probie to an awful confrontation with the standing princess of Alderaan. Why should he be giving him all these chances, and still refuse to regard him how so many others did- how he regarded  _ himself _ ? 

 

“S-Sir..?”

 

Undeterred, Konstantine continued. “Which brings me to the real reason I summoned you.” Stepping over to the baffled lieutenant, he paused only slightly to size him up before placing a hand on his shoulder. Every nerve in Lyste’s body lit up, though whether from alarm or anticipation couldn’t be determined. His grip, while still gentle, lost its sense of professional camaraderie when another element dawned on him- it was strong, possessive even, if he wanted to read that far into it. 

 

“Sir?” he parrotted. 

 

“You intrigue me, Lieutenant,” he mused, an insistent grin on his face. “I’m sure that I’ve made as much obvious by now. As you must have realized, I am, indeed, giving you ‘special treatment’ in comparison to others of your rank.”

 

_ Special treatment _ ..? Lyste hadn’t really thought of it before that moment, far too occupied by his anxieties over proving his worth and finding his niche within this new hierarchy. Thinking back, however.... As a probie, he shouldn’t have been eligible for a promotion, but he’d been far too starstruck (and minorly concussed) to question it. All the opportunities that came to him- had he been expertly positioned for them? Had Konstantine known that the princess would arrive- no, there was no way, but it  _ was _ his gift of a shuttle which allowed him to get in that situation in the first place. After all, most other lieutenants had communal shuttles, not one to call solely their own, hence his anguish when he realized it had vanished at the hands of the insurgents. Then there was the fact that, no matter how often he stumbled, Admiral Konstantine  _ always _ seemed to be there to prevent others from kicking him around. 

 

Blood rushed to his cheeks, a burning sensation claiming every available nerve as oceanic eyes widened in realization. His lips parted, forming circles around silent syllables before he ducked his head to clear his throat, grateful to be somewhat protected from the intensity of his superior’s gaze. Just to be safe, he kept his head bowed, as if the rapid beating of his heart could be seen through large eyes and red-tipped ears. “Ah…. Admiral Konstantine, sir..?” There was  _ no way _ this was happening… right?

 

“I was going to have a meeting with Moff Jerjerrod over dinner tonight, but he cancelled this morning,” Konstantine continued, glossing over Lyste’s tangible awe. “Apparently, the needs of  _ Captain Piett  _ overshadow our discussion of military routes through the Cornellian Run, but I can hardly complain. This leaves me free to invite someone of my choice to fill my reservation. Tell me, Lieutenant; what's your opinion on  _ The Pinnacle _ ? Have you ever been there? It’s a bit of a flight from here, being on Coruscant and all, but I trust we’ll arrive in a timely manner.”

 

At this point, there was little Lyste could do aside from gape. Steam erupted from his ears as gears spun with abandon, trying (and nearly failing) to comprehend the situation before him. In a handful of seconds, three realizations dawned on him. 

 

First, Admiral Konstantine, his _commanding officer_ , had just stated that he found _him,_ _Lieutenant Yogar Lyste,_ ** _intriguing_**. What exactly that implied, he wasn’t sure, but hopeless romanticism excited him with delusions of attraction. While he hadn’t lied to himself and claimed that the admiral wasn’t appealing to him, he’d never once thought such a sentiment could be returned.

 

Second, he’d just been invited to dine with said admiral at  _ The Pinnacle _ , the pride and joy of Coruscanti aesthetic and architecture, luxurious enough for none but the elite and powerful. While he’d never seen the place with his own eyes, he’d heard tales of its sophistication and beauty- something even his dreams wouldn’t go as far as to imagine him in. He’d heard how elegant windows offered a magnificent view, perfectly framing the Imperial Palace, the Senate, and countless more of Coruscant’s enchanting memorials. And the  _ height _ \-- the thought made his stomach drop, the butterflies taking that as their cue to flutter helplessly about.

 

Thirdly, and most importantly by any means, Admiral Konstantine was not a mind reader and was still awaiting a response. Somehow able to drag himself out of his stupor enough to form words, he couldn’t help the lopsided, shy smile from blossoming on his lips. “If you’re sure it’s not too much of a burden…” 

 

“Fantastic!” Konstantine exclaimed, claiming the acceptance where it stood unspoken, yet in plain sight nonetheless. Had Lyste not known any better, he would have thought Konstantine was  _ excited _ \-- the kind of vivacious anticipation typically seen only in lovestruck, hormonal cadets. No, that had to be his rosey glasses fooling him into seeing a seed of romance where it didn’t exist. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time…

 

And yet, his gut wouldn’t let him deny it completely, as if his instincts could sense something he could not. Were these secret messages how people fell in love, the translations of one’s own encrypted feelings lying within another, unbeknownst to the beholder? Was this sussurant  _ go ahead- it’s safe _ what drew Aresko and Grint together-- cemented them together in life as well as death? Could this inability to dismiss what his logical mind had insisted against be the key to what he had been pining after for all of this time? In the end, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? 

 

“If we are to make it there in time, we ought to leave now,” Konstantine stated, tearing Lyste from his pensive contemplation. The steady hand which had kept him from simply floating away dropped from his shoulder to adjust the fit of his shirt. “Come to my personal shuttle in, say… ten minutes? That should give us plenty of time without rush.”

 

“Y-Yes. O-Of course, sir! I’ll get right on that!”

 

“Oh, and, Lieutenant?” 

 

Lyste turned back, heart skipping a generous handful of beats as he recognized the look in Konstantine’s eyes- a reserved hunger, not quite ready to take what it desired, but inching closer and closer with every passing second. It was an expression he himself had borne time and time again in the midst of his envy. 

 

“Please refrain from calling me  _ Admiral _ while we eat. I would much rather you refer to me by name-- Kassius.”

 

Vibrant blue eyes widened almost comically at that, and Lyste swore that the world around him slowed to a stop. How informal… It was almost as if he considered them equals in a way their ranks did not! Moistening his lips, he nodded obediently and added his own name to the mix.

 

“Yogar,” Konstantine parrotted, and Lyste nearly shuddered at how his name rolled so eloquently off his tongue. Usually, it sounded so  _ awkward _ , but it sounded so  _ natural _ coming from his newly christened date. No matter how awfully it may end, he was going to enjoy this little indulgence. 

 

But he most certainly did not  _ accidentally _ walk off with one of  _ The Pinnacle’s _ silken napkins, white and fresh and untouched. The world absolutely did not fall out from under him when the admiral- no, when  _ Kassius _ asked for his company a second time as they retreated back to the shuttle. Nor did he lose all concept of reality itself when their lips met in a chaste affirmation of their mutual interest-- a symbol of affectionate departure. And he most  _ definitely _ didn’t bounce back to his quarters to embroider the cloth with his name--  _ KASSIUS _ \-- nor fold the delicately valuable shrapnel inside of its soft sheath and fall asleep with the package resting above his beating heart. 

  
...But if he  _ had _ , who would blame him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo I'm not any good at writing food stuff so like. I kinda skipped over dinner. I can't really explain it, I just find it awkward. ANYWAYS, I'm pretty sure the next chapter is going to be explicit, but we'll see. Any suggestions for the next keepsake?

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series! It'll probably have 5-6 chapters but who knows? I'm funny like that. Any suggestions for the next keepsake?


End file.
